


Speechless

by djsoliloquy



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Gen, Goodbyes, Post-Canon, Sacrifice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-26
Updated: 2013-06-26
Packaged: 2017-12-16 06:33:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/858962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/djsoliloquy/pseuds/djsoliloquy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Command decisions are easy. Saying goodbye is not.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Speechless

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by a kinkmeme request for Jean as the only survivor of the 104th, with (preferably) Armin as the last comrade to die. *Just in case: Warning for Pre-Major Character Death and other character deaths implied/discussed.

They stand on the battlements facing the field. The distant trees are still draped in early morning shadow, and Jean can see his breath on the air when he exhales.   
  
Beside him, Armin sighs.   
  
“It seems like forever since we just had a moment,” Armin says. It’s a tranquil dawn—no approaching ground-shaking footsteps, no abrupt traumatizing deaths. The squads behind them rustle quietly, clinks and determined murmurs of soldiers checking straps and gas levels as they prepare for their last mission.   
  
Jean opens his mouth and finds he can’t answer.  
  
The higher-ups are making him stay at camp, but when he gives the order Armin will be going with the rest of them. Armin is the reason for going in the first place, dammit. He came up with the plan. It’s the absolute best they can do with what they have.   
  
And both of them know it's a one-way-trip kind of mission.   
  
Armin and Jean are the only ones left now of the infamous 104th. They’ve been the only ones left for a while. But losing Armin is. It’s different somehow. Terrifying.  
  
They gaze out toward the troops’ destination instead of each other. Jean balls his fists together at his sides. He has to say something, he needs to find the words now while there's time—  
  
Good luck. It's been an honor. The things a commander would say, something phatic. Or is it platitudes? That's what Armin would call it, using his patient explaining things voice.  _It doesn't mean anything, Jean. Just say what you want to say._    
  
Maybe a bit of gallows humor, send Armin to death on a high note. Say hi to everyone for me. I'll be up in a minute. Always the last guy to get with the program, right?  
  
“Is this...” Jean’s tongue gets away from him, letting words fly ahead of his ability to make sure they’re sufficient. The back of his throat burns. He wasn’t speaking from the core the way command decisions go and it wasn't... wasn't good enough anyway. He's just scared. For the first time in a long time, he's really scared.  
  
This mission is their best bet and he wishes it wasn't. He wishes they had more _time_. He knows what has to be done.   
  
He just doesn’t know what to say.   
  
Out of the corner of his eye he senses Armin looking at him, brushing back hair blown into his face by the wind. “It's the right call,” Armin says.  
  
He sounds calm and prepared. Casually reading Jean's mind like he always does, like that’s a completely reasonable way for people to interact. Fuck. Jean closes his eyes, seeking temporary refuge. I can't do this alone, he thinks. Please.  
  
“You think so?” he says. Phatic. They wouldn’t be standing here if either of them thought for a second there was any other way.  
  
“Yes,” Armin says gently, and then, “I'll make sure it gets done.” The first and only waver in his voice, Jean notes with the sort of peripheral awareness he’s picked up in his time as commander. A steel undercurrent of resolve; _it_   _will get done_.   
  
He nods and Armin continues waiting for him, but Jean can't look back. He can't, suddenly. Looking will mean acknowledging that it's time, that it’s happening. Armin wouldn't go without a—  
  
Jean's mind stutters over the idea that they could simply say goodbye.  
  
The sun is coming up.  
  
“Jean.”   
  
He looks.  
  
Armin is smiling. His face is warm and knowing, eyes full of pride. Gratitude. That feeling of  _we did good, huh?_  This is only between them, and it holds for a long moment. Armin’s smile widens a bit when Jean can't stop staring, still trapped by his indecision.   
  
“It's okay,” Armin says, barely above a whisper, and that’s just for them too. The little lie they need to hear.   
  
I love you, Jean almost says. He should stand against the wind and give Armin that truth right now while he's alive and real and standing a mere arm's length away, say what Jean didn’t have the opportunity or courage to say to any of the others. Armin is his last friend in the world and Jean loves him. He doesn't want Armin to go. That's all there is.   
  
“I'm sorry,” Jean says. His voice is scratchy. He makes a mental note to cough before addressing the squads. He can’t seem to look anywhere else now that he has Armin in sight. He wants to look at Armin for years.   
  
Armin smiles again, like Jean just confirmed some secret theory. “I'm not,” he says. He checks over his shoulder at the soldiers and slowly exhales. “It's time,” he says finally, face hardened for battle. “We're ready.”  
  
“Yeah.” Jean swallows.  
  
The first rays of sunshine have begun streaming over the tree line, lighting their faces. There are birds singing. It’s actually a really nice morning, Jean thinks.   
  
He rolls his shoulders back and clears his throat. Yeah. They're ready.  
  
Then he faces the squads and starts to give the order.


End file.
